Do Better by You
by Call Me Sarah
Summary: T for lang. Swarek should hate McNally, but for some reason, something's preventing him from doing so. And it's in her eyes.
1. Preface

**Preface**

Have you ever been so alone that not only do you see your shadows as your only companions, but you also see them as a Godsend? Well, I've been there. And sometimes, the light of day isn't enough to make those shadows disappear. Sometimes, the only thing that can keep you from drowning is not really a thing, but a person.

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**Sam's POV**

She was witty, I'd give her that. But she was also as annoying as hell. Swarek this, Swarek that. God, she was acting like my goddamn mother half the time, and the other half of the time, she was acting like a naïve little rookie. Well, she is a naïve little rookie, but that's besides the point. I've known her for what, a few weeks? And she's already dominating all of my thoughts.

You know, I thought I hated her. She blew my case! Eight months of my case, gone, just like that. And she ruined it with a little satisfied smirk, too. But her eyes... I just can't move past them. No rookie should ever have that haunted look she sometimes gets. She's drowning in her past. And it shows.

Hate her? I should, but instead, I want her. Not in that way, well, yeah, in that way. But I want to get to know her. To save her from drowning.


	2. GI Jane

I'm not usually one for author notes so I'll try to make this short and sweet.

For those who claim I have no plot, it's because "Chapter 1" was the preface. It doesn't need a plot. IT'S THE INTRODUCTION.

For those of you who insist I need a beta, I must ask why. Why? I did make a few mistakes, but they were typos and have been corrected. If you see an error in my sentence structure, just shoot me a PM, and I'll take a look at it. Some of them could be rhetorical devices (polysyndeton, asyndeton... etc.) and could be intentional.

For those who want the chapters to be longer, I have no harsh words for you. I understand that I write extremely short chapters, and It's been something that I've been dealing with for several years. It's something I struggle with, and I wish you could understand that I really want to write longer chapters, but something is always holding me back.

Thank you all for the reviews and words of advice!

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**Chapter One- Andy's POV**

Most people believe that I've always had dreams of being a cop– that on my third birthday, my theme was NYPD instead of Barbie. While it's true I was never into that Barbie shit, I also never had dreams of being a cop. I'd be too much like my dad. I was afraid if I started out in a career like his, then I'd fall into the pit of misery that surrounded him, too. That I'd try and fight my demons with alcohol and sleeping pills instead of strong will and a sharp mind. I wasn't willing to give up any of my sanity to protect my city. It just wasn't worth it.

No, I distinctly remember my third birthday party as being non existent. Dad was off on a case, and Mom was drinking herself into oblivion, trying to forget the mistake she had made by marrying my father. I also remember my fourth and fifth birthdays being similar. My first birthday party? I was ten. And the theme was G.I. Joe– not Barbie, not NYPD. My friends who were guys thought I was awesome, and they loved how I had a guy name. My friends who were girls... well, they just didn't exist. By thirteen, I was commonly referred to as "G.I. Jane". Very cliché, but also very true.

By seventeen, I had graduated from high school and had been enlisted in the army. I, of course had to get parental consent to enlist at seventeen, but my father signed the papers as soon as he saw the Army header. Apparently, he'd been waiting for this day for seven years. I didn't tell my mom I had enlisted until the day of my flight. Dad didn't ever speak to mom, so I was certain, then and now, that he never said a word to her about it. When the time came for me to leave for boot camp, I grabbed my duffel bag of approved items to bring, I kissed her on the check, and left without a word. I knew she'd never agree to me joining the military, and I wasn't going to let her stop me.

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_2003_

I was currently on a plane to Fort Benning in Georgia for basic combat training– BCT. I was nervous and anxious and all other adjectives ending in 'ous'. I was introducing myself to everyone as Andy, knowing I'd never hear anyone call me that again. I was just McNally from here on out. I hadn't even been through basic training yet, but when people learned why I was headed towards Georgia, they steered clear of me. Apparently, people didn't like soldiers. Even the ones who hadn't shot a weapon, well, at anyone in their life. Of course, I'd been to the shooting range with dad and some of his police buddies before, but I wasn't harming anyone or thing besides a piece of paper with a human target drawn on it in black and red.

The plane landed around five in the afternoon, and I made a quick call to home and left a brief voice mail informing my parents that I'd arrived in Georgia safely. I was soon being taken to the base, and I was lined up with a slew of other recruits. They made us change into fatigues, and then they made us line up with our duffel bags at our feet. The man I was presuming to be our training officer stopped in front of every recruit calling them maggots for believing they could bring anything into the army besides strength and a passion for weapons. He then threw all of our duffel bags into the trash, and he sent us to get our hair cut or shaved, depending on our gender.

Within moments, I was sitting in a swivel chair inside a stark white room, and a woman asked me how short I wanted my hair. "Buzzed," I whispered as I watched the reddish brown locks fall to my booted feet. I felt something grip my heart. What it was, I wasn't sure. Maybe a little anxiety, maybe a little joy. All I knew was that I knew nothing, and everything I had ever learned couldn't prepare me for what was to come.


	3. Wishes

_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?  
I could really use a wish right now._

-"Airplanes" by B.o.B ft. Hayley Williams

If only there were stars to wish upon out here. Lights from the base prevent me from seeing any stars. I can't make wishes upon the blackness, and so I keepmy hopes up– perhaps someone out in the world is making a wish for me right now. We are currently going through the Red Phase of training. Basically, everything we'd ever done in our lives was wrong. And everything we're doing now is wrong. And so the army is correcting this. I have been torn down so may times in the past twelve hours, I wonder if I will ever be able to slump, or smile at something funny, tie my shoes incorrectly, or make my bed with a single wrinkle. When I leave the army, will my life be forever like it is now? Will I ever break this mold? Can I ever be Andy again? Or will I always be McNally?

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Phase Red didn't just involve the drill sergeants watching your every move and tearing you down piece by piece. It wasn't called Hell Week for no reason. We were subjected to chemical warfare training. Well, that's the politically correct way to say it. The politically incorrect way? They put us in a gas chamber filled with gas and told us that, "If you ever want to survive in a war, you have to survive this first. And you better survive. I don't want to be the one to pick your goddamn dead body off the floor."

We all survived, and I attribute it to that mystery person out there, wishing on shooting stars for us.

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By the time Phase White rolled around, I was so tired. It wasn't the want-to-sleep kind of tired, it was the ache-down-to-the-bone tired. The exhaustion that seeps into your bones and never seems to leave.

Phase White was all about weaponry. We handled M16A2s, grenades, grenade launchers, tanks, anti-tank weaponry, and bayonets. We were subjected to intense training with these weapons, and by the end of the first week of Phase White, I knew how to clean my M16 in the matter of seconds, give me another few and I'd have it loaded and pointed straight at your heart.

There were a few incidents during Phase White, but thankfully, none of them involved me. A recruit activated a grenade and got so damn freaked out that he forgot to throw it for a while... when he remembered, he didn't have the chance to throw it too far, and several recruits ended up in the infirmary with burns. I haven't seen him since.

I've been wishing on the helicopters and airplanes, pretending they are shooting stars. I know that if I just keep trying to convince myself that they are shooting stars, that they will actually turn into stars. My only wish: keep me here. Let me stay. Don't let me screw up.

I can't afford to screw up. I've come too far.

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_Author's note:_

_I never thought I'd incorporate this song into a fic, and frankly, I hadn't even heard the song until today. But for some reason, it really stuck with me. Thanks for sticking by me, even though my writing and updates are really flawed. Hopefully, I will update soon. It all depends on my work schedule, which changes periodically. I'm gonna go wish on some airplanes now. ;)_


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